


Forget Me Not

by katatonic25



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, warfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-23 21:19:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1579871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katatonic25/pseuds/katatonic25
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured and memory-charmed Draco Malfoy ends up in the care of the Order. Warfic. HBP-compliant. Dramione.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The thick acrid scent of dark magic burned Hermione’s nostrils as she ran across the smoldering field. What started as a simple scouting mission turned into a poorly balanced fight, as ten death eaters surrounded Hermione, Ron and Padma.  
Set up, set up, set up, Hermione thought with each pound of her feet on the ground. They had received an owl with the location written in code. It had taken Hermione three days to crack it, and when she finally succeeded, Lupin had grudgingly allowed her to investigate.  
  
A blur of red hair shot by Hermione as Ron sped by, drawing purple jets of light in his trail. She ducked behind a large oak tree to catch her breath. Her portkey, a small silver phoenix pendant that dangled around her neck, began to heat up.  
  
“Two minutes,” she breathed out, bent at the waist against the tree.  
  
A drop of blood on the decaying grass at her feet caught Hermione’s attention. She whipped her head around; the fight was slowing as the Death Eaters began to retreat one-by-one. Hermione focused back on the blood in front of her. She found a small trail and her eyes followed it to an old, dead log. With all the stealth she could muster, she moved towards the fallen tree. A quiet, pained groan caused her to suck in her breath and hold it as Hermione peaked around the log.  
  
The first thing that hit her was the metallic scent of blood that seemed to fill her senses until she tasted bitter bile on the back of her tongue. Even after years of war, Hermione had never quite adjusted to the scent and sight of blood- especially this much blood. It was pooled around a tall, thin body, clinging to the black fabric of the cloak covering the person before her. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Hermione leaned down to remove the shroud, uncovering the smooth, pale face of Draco Malfoy. She gasped quietly and pushed her fingers against his neck. His pulse was faint, and when she drew her hand away, a long-fingered hand wrapped tightly around her wrist.  
  
“Please,” he murmured quietly, opening his eyes halfway.  
  
They were foggy and disconnected as he pleaded with her. His grip was crushing the delicate bones of her wrist, but the rest of him was lax and deflated.  
  
“Malfoy, let go of me,” Hermione hissed, the panic rising in her throat as her portkey began to heat up again. She had thirty seconds before she was pulled back to Grimmauld Place.  
  
“Granger, please. Where am I?” Malfoy’s voice was shaking with emotion. He moved to sit up, but cried out as his wounds bled heavier. Hermione tugged her arm away, and finally, he let go.  
  
“Granger, I don’t know… Why aren’t we at school? What happened?”  
  
The phoenix pendant began to pulse in its countdown. Hermione studied Malfoy’s face, hoping to detect some physical manifestation of his mental health. He was too thin- gaunt, even- and there were deep shadows under his silver eyes. The look of terror and eerie blankness in them settled her mind, and with a low growl, she grabbed his arm. He yelped in shock as the portkey activated, sending them arse-first on the hard wooden floors of Headquarters. When Hermione opened her eyes, there were four wands pointed at Malfoy. Harry, Fred, George and Parvati all spoke at once.  
  
“Hermione-"  
  
“What happened-”  
  
“Why is Malfoy-“  
  
“Hermione!”  
  
She groaned and grasped for her wand. Rolling up onto her side, she leaned over Malfoy’s unconscious frame and began to examine his wounds. There were deep slashes across his chest, turning his black shirt even blacker. It clung to him, heavy with blood. She muttered rudimentary healing spells to slow the bleeding, while her audience watched in shocked silence.  
  
“Get Remus,” she ordered in between spells. A soft shuffle of feet told her that someone had obeyed her. A firm hand on her shoulder pulled her away from Malfoy as Remus ran into the room.  
  
“I trust you know what you’ve done,” he asked in a darkly deep voice. Hermione nodded quickly, as sweeping nausea took over. Remus sighed, then levitated Malfoy’s body up the stairs. Hermione tried to follow, but Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her back.  
  
“There’s something wrong with him,” she answered his silent question. “He didn’t know when it was and he was going to bleed to death. I had to-"  
  
“Bring him here, to our most secure safehouse?” Harry finished for her.  
  
Her eyes searched the small audience. Fred and George had matching incredulous looks on their faces, while Parvati stared at her feet. The kitchen door banged open as Ron and Padma returned. Padma sidled next to her sister, while Ron stormed at Hermione, red-faced with anger.  
  
“Tell me it’s not true,” he growled. “You can’t be that daft, Hermione.” Someone grunted in agreement as tears filled Hermione’s eyes.  
  
“He would have left you there to die,” Ron continued.  
  
“Are we measuring our choices by what Malfoy would have done now? We have to be better, Ron. I couldn’t leave him there to die any more than I could leave you or Padma.”  
  
Ron let out a strangled cry of surprise.  
  
“You’re comparing me to that Death Eater? You should have let him die. He deserves to die.”  
  
With that, Ron left the room, slamming the kitchen door behind him. Fred and George followed him in silence, shooting one last disbelieving glance at Hermione.  
Harry sighed, then wrapped one arm around Hermione’s shoulders. She leaned her head on him as her body shook with quiet sobs. Padma and Parvati surrounded her in a hug as the exhaustion of the battle caught up with her.  
  
Hermione awoke in the middle of the night, her muscles screaming to be stretched. With a groan, she pulled her blanket- one of Molly’s quilts- off to roam the halls. Grimmauld Place was eerily quiet at night and the moonlight shone through the windows, giving the hallway a spooky glow. As her muscles began to relax, Hermione heard low whispers from the makeshift medical room at the end of the long hall. She paused in front of the door for a moment to listen.  
  
“The last thing he remembers is fleeing with Snape after he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts,” Remus’s soft voice explained.  
  
“And his wounds?” Molly asked.  
  
“Would have been fatal,” Madame Pomfrey’s answered, her voice quivering slightly with worry.  
  
“Kingsley will be here in the morning. For now, he’ll stay here,” Remus said with a tone of finality.  
  
The women murmured in ascent and began to file out the bedroom. Hermione ducked quickly into the bathroom, pressing her ear against the door. When she heard three doors close, she snuck out and slid into the room with Malfoy. His torn shirt was cast aside, and for the first time, she could see the extent of his injuries. His pale chest was covered in deep wounds that led into the waistband of his trousers. Squinting her eyes, she could also make out a set of silvery scars from Harry’s Sectumsempra curse from three years prior.  
  
Hermione’s eyes wandered to the vials of potions and creams on the bedside table. She had picked up a small bottle of pain relieving potion when Malfoy shifted in the bed next to her, letting a low groan leave his lips. She slowly turned to face him and felt the blood drain from her face when she met his grey eyes.  
  
“You’re awake,” she commented lamely.  
  
“And they call you clever,” he drawled, his voice gravelly with disuse. “Potion,” he grunted.  
  
“What?”  
  
“The potion in your hand, Granger. Give it to me.”  
  
“Oh,” she responded quietly and held it out to him. Malfoy took a long sip, then tossed the empty vial on the floor. Hermione bent down to pick it up, rolling her eyes. When she opened her mouth to chastise him, he spoke first.  
  
“That filthy werewolf says it’s been three years.” Her hand itched to smack him, but instead she nodded.  
  
“Someone took three years of my life away from me and left me for dead.”  
  
“You could have been injured in the fight, or perhaps a brain injury could explain why-"  
  
“Do me a favor, Granger,” Malfoy said quietly, laying his head back on the pillow. “Shut the fuck up.”  
  
Hermione’s cheeks burned and she clenched her hands into tight fists.  
  
“A thank you would be nice,” she spat, turning towards the door.  
  
“Thank you?” Malfoy asked incredulously. “Certainly, Granger. Thank you for bringing me into the home of blood traitors and Mudbloods. Thank you for taking me away from my family and my duty. And a big fucking thank you for leaving me here to be babysat by a fucking werewolf!”  
  
“You’re telling me you’d rather be lying in ditch, bled out than here? Alive? I always knew you were a fool, Malfoy, but that takes the cake. I could have left you there, but you begged me! Begged me, the Mudblood! I can only imagine what your father would say-"  
  
“Don’t talk about my father!” he roared, attempting to lean on his elbows to see her.  
  
“You ungrateful prat!” Hermione yelled back and reached for the door handle. As she closed the door behind her, she heard him mutter.  
  
“You should have left me to die.”


	2. Chapter 2

The younger members of the Order sat around the kitchen table, waiting in uncomfortable silence. Kingsley had arrived nearly an hour ago and went straight up to Malfoy's room without so much as a nod in their direction. Hermione kept her eyes on her cup of tea, mindlessly rubbing the handle with her thumb. She didn't dare look up and meet the angry blue eyes staring at her. The silence was interrupted by a loud smack that wrenched Hermione's gaze up from her mug. Ron was rubbing his forearm pathetically, glaring at Ginny.

"What was that bloody for?" he swore. Ginny rolled her eyes and smacked him again.

"You're going to burn a hole in the top of Hermione's head if you're not careful," she responded with a huff.

"This is her fault-" Ron began, but Harry cleared his throat and shot a warning look at him.

"He's here whether we like it or not. We might as well find a way to get some use out of him."

"I don't know how useful he'll be," Hermione said quietly, her eyes trained back on the table before her. "He can't remember the last three years."

"So he says," Dean piped up, then shrugged in half-apology to Hermione when a hurt look crossed her face. "It's true, Hermione. We can't trust him any farther than we can throw him. He could have been sent here on purpose to-"

Hermione slammed her mug on the table, causing her cold tea to slosh onto a puddle on the table.

"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think that very thought has been running through my mind the second I brought him here?"

Ginny reached across the table to grasp Hermione's shaking hands. Silence fell on the kitchen once again as Hermione fought back frustrated tears. Her throat felt hot and tight as she took a large, gulping breath of air. Harry opened his mouth to say something when the rhythmic pounding of someone walking down the stairs drew everyone's focus. Kingsley opened the door and looked at the table with a weariness that seemed to accompany him everywhere.

"He's telling the truth."

"How do you know?" Ron asked hotly, beginning to stand.

Kingsley narrowed his gaze at the redhead as Ron sunk back into his chair.

"Legilimency-

"He could be an Occlumens!"

"Veritaserum-

"You can become resistant-

"And more Legilimency when he was unconscious. Now, Mr. Weasley, if you think you are a better trained wizard than Remus and myself, I'd love to hear your suggestions."

Ron's jaw snapped as he closed his mouth.

"That's what I thought," Kingsley nodded.

"Why was he unconscious?" Hermione asked in a timid voice. Kingsley watched her for a moment with an inscrutable look before answering.

"He passed out."

"Just… on his own?" Ginny asked.

"Veritaserum and Legilimency can be taxing on the mind," Kingsley said slowly, his eyes shifting around the room.

"But he has serious injuries!" Hermione gasped with indignation.

Kingsley sighed and faced her completely.

"What is more important, Miss Granger? Tending to Mr. Malfoy's wounds or reassuring that we do not in fact have a Death Eater spy in our midst?"

Hermione's embarrassed silence provided him with the answer.

"Sir," Harry said, drawing Kingsley's gaze off of Hermione. "What are we going to do with him?"

"Heal him, then use him in any way possible."

"Despite not having the past three years of his life," Remus's kind voice echoed from his unseen perch in the doorway, "he still has immense knowledge of Voldemort. Once he's healed, we will present him with a choice. He can return to his master and his family, with the memories of his time here erased, or he can stay."

"So until he's better, we're stuck with him," Dean muttered, earning an approving nod from Ron.

"Yes," Kingsley said with a booming finality and with an impressive sweep of his cloak, he left the room.

Remus signaled for Hermione to follow him out of the kitchen. She stood, clearing her throat, but decided against speaking and swiftly exited the kitchen.

"He's your responsibility, Miss Granger," Remus said. "Madame Pomfrey will keep the supplies stocked, but Malfoy has mistreated her one too many times for her to go out of her way for his health. And Molly… Molly is a mother, but we cannot place that burden on her."

Hermione nodded in agreement. Molly had her own children and surrogate children to care for without adding Malfoy to the mix. As she turned to head up the creaking stairs to check on her new patient, Remus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I would have done the same thing."

Hermione gave him a small smile over her shoulder and headed upstairs.

"Patience," she said with a long inhale, her hand gripped tightly around the door handle to Malfoy's room. With her exhale, she pushed the door open. Malfoy was lying on his back again, but this time his eyes were open, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Come to torture me some more?" he asked with a sneer.

"No," Hermione answered quietly, making her way to the side of his bed. She grabbed a jar of cream, fiddling with its peeling label. "I've got to clean your wounds."

Malfoy shifted his gaze toward her. His eyes were red-rimmed and steely with anger. Hermione unscrewed the cap and winced as the heavy scent of eucalyptus filled the room. She dipped two fingers into the jar and took a final, awkward step towards Malfoy. She hesitated, looking at his bare chest until he rolled his eyes and grabbed the cream from her grasp.

"I'll do it myself," he spat, hissing quietly as he rubbed the cream on his skin. Hermione looked away red-faced. "Fucking prude," he muttered.

"It looks like you're going to be here for a while," Hermione began. "So if there's anything you want, I might be able to get it for you."

"I'd like my memories back, if it wouldn't be too much trouble," Malfoy asked mockingly.

Patience, Hermione. Patience, she thought with a calming breath.

"How about a book?"

Malfoy barked a humourless laugh.

"Sure, Princess. Get me a fucking book. That'll make this just swell."

Hermione snapped her head up to look back at Malfoy.

"Why are you such an arse?" she yelled. "I'm trying my best to make this better. Everyone downstairs hates me for saving you. You hate me for saving you. Should I really have just let you die? Would that make everyone happy?"

She shoved a pain potion into Malfoy's hand.

"Drink this. I'll have Kreacher bring up some food."

"A house-elf, Granger? Really?"

Hermione clenched her jaw at his mocking tone.

"So help me, Malfoy, if you say one more rude thing tonight, you won't be getting anything to eat."

He held his hands up in surrender as she wrenched the door open.

"Fine, Nurse Granger."

Hermione began to close the door, when he called back to her.

"Make sure my tea is hot!"

She slammed the door so hard that the walls shook.

* * *

 

It was a week later when Malfoy had taken enough blood-replenishing potion to move around. Ginny, Hermione and Lavender were sitting the kitchen late at night drinking a bottle of elf-made wine they found earlier when he came skulking into the room. He still couldn't wear a shirt and his hand-me-down pajama pants were slung dangerously low on his hips. The moment he turned his back to make a cup of tea, Lavender waggled her eyebrows at the other girls. Ginny burst out laughing, but Hermione just scowled and threw the cork at her.

Malfoy reached up to get the sugar from the cabinet and made a small hissing sound.

"Shit," he muttered, looking down at his chest.

"What's wrong?" Lavender asked in her most sugary-sweet voice, causing Hermione and Ginny to share a look.

"Nothing," he grunted, grabbing his tea and storming from the kitchen.

With a sigh, Hermione got up to follow him.

"Just leave him," Ginny said, waving her hand in mild disgust. "He's been nothing but a git."

"I know, but…" Hermione trailed off. As much as she hated looking after Malfoy, his care was the only task Remus had given her and she would do it well. Malfoy was her newest cause, despite his cruelty. "Five minutes," she said and headed for the stairs.

Draco wasn't in his room when she peeked in, causing Hermione reared her head back in surprise. Chewing her bottom lip, she looked around the hall. The light from her bedroom was shining under the door.

Odd, she thought, then shook her head slowly. No. No way.

She threw the door open and cried out in surprised anger. Malfoy was standing in front of her bookcase studying the titles as a river of blood trickled down his pant leg and onto the floor.

"Malfoy," she began slowly, trying to gain control of her temper. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Granger?"

He pulled a book out and turned to face her. She inhaled deeply; two of his cuts had reopened, bleeding down the rivets of his abdomen. Hermione shot a quick cleaning spell at him and he grunted in surprise.

"Could've warned me," he muttered, walking towards the door. Hermione stepped to the side, blocking his path. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, but Hermione continued to stare menacingly at him. After a few moments of silence, his eyes shot to the left to her half-opened drawer.

"Nice knickers," he drawled. "Who knew you'd own lace?"

Hermione's nostrils flared in annoyance.

"You can't come in my room."

"I wanted a book," he said slowly, like she was a child. "Where else in this rat hole would I find one?"

"How about the library? I hear it's an entire room dedicated to books."

The corner of Malfoy's mouth turned up in a small smirk.

"Feisty," he commented, then slid around her and out the door. "I've got to go take care of this," he said, pointing to his chest. "But I'll come find you later, and you can tell me all about this library concept."

"Go to hell," Hermione swore at his retreating back.

"Already there, Princess," he called back, closing his bedroom door gently behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! :)

It was the first warm day in months and most of the residents of Grimmauld Place had taken their brooms to the air for a game of pick-up Quidditch. Despite pleading from both Ron and Ginny, Hermione decided to take advantage of the relative calm and do some research.

"Every day you spend skiving off is one day longer that this miserable war will go on," she had huffed at Ron and Harry as they strapped on their pads.

"We need this, Hermione," Harry said, giving her a quick clap on the back before darting out the back door with the other players and spectators.

He was right and she knew it; the three of them had been researching and reading endlessly for the past few weeks. Harry was sure one of the horcruxes was at Hogwarts, while Ron insisted they should check out Malfoy Manor first. Hermione reckoned they were both right. Unfortunately, both Hogwarts and the Manor were heavily guarded by Death Eaters and Dementors for the time being. Hermione decided to follow up on Regulus's locket. Despite Kreacher's help, they had no leads on its location. Mundungus swore he sold it to a woman he saw in the papers so the three had been on the lookout for photographs of women wearing the necklace. She grabbed as many issues of the Daily Prophet as she could carry and padded downstairs towards the library.

Aside from the sun filtering in through the dusty windows, the room was dim and dank like always. Hermione slid into her favorite chair when a small clearing of a throat startled her. She whipped around to face the other armchair. Malfoy was lounging gracefully, his long legs crossed at the ankles.

"Malfoy," she greeted flatly, sighing inwardly and mourning her quickly depleting silence. She prepared for a comment or insult, but instead he simply nodded and averted his eyes back to the book in his lap. Hermione squinted to get a look at the title of his book, but when she saw him raise a single blond eyebrow, she looked away. She curled up in her chair, and with a small sigh, began to sift through the Daily Prophet. Aside from the usual anti-Harry slander, there wasn't much to note. She flipped through the pages until her fingers turned grey with ink, fidgeting every few minutes. Malfoy, she noticed, sat statuesquely still, only moving to turn the page of his book.

Hermione was about to toss the papers in the bin and mark it as another failed attempt, when a small photo caught her eye. Dolores Umbridge was holding out a pamphlet, beaming at the camera with her toad-like face glowing in recognition. Hermione could make out the word "Mudblood" on the pamphlet and huffed in annoyance. As she gave the photo one last frustrated sweep, she noticed the small, seemingly unimportant necklace around Umbridge's thick neck.

"That foul woman!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. She hurriedly ripped the photo out of the newspaper and looked at it one last time before folding it up and sliding it into her back pocket. When she looked up, Malfoy was staring at her. His eyebrows were raised in comic disbelief and his head was tilted to the right. A small, embarrassed giggle bubbled in Hermione's throat, and as he continued to watch her with a doglike curiosity, the giggle turned into barking laughter. Malfoy's eyes grew wide and he gently closed his book, carefully sliding a bookmark into place.

"I think you've finally lost it, Granger," he commented. He folded his hands to rest on top of the book, still hiding its title from Hermione's view.

"What are you reading?" she asked when her laughter subsided, ignoring his evaluation of her sanity. He shifted the book towards his chest so she could only see the ornate design on the back of the cover.

"A book."

"Obviously."

"It annoys you not to know," Malfoy stated in amusement.

"Why won't you just tell me what it is?" Hermione was mildly embarrassed by the slight whine in her tone.

A slow smirk took over Malfoy's lips and delight flickered in his eyes.

"Because, Granger, it much more fun to drive you barking- although it appears you've gotten there all on your own."

Hermione rolled her eyes and headed for the door.

"I'll give you three hints," he called to her. She looked over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. "If you guess correctly, I'll give it to you," he continued. "But if you guess incorrectly, you have to answer a question."

She thought about it for a long moment, then nodded confidently.

"Okay."

"It's familiar."

"That doesn't exactly narrow it down, Malfoy," Hermione pointed out, turning to face him. "I'm sure you've read a thousand books before."

"I didn't say I've read it before. It's  _familiar_ , Granger," he said again.

Hermione chewed her bottom lip for a moment before waving him on.

"Next hint," she commanded.

"The author is its only owner."

"And?"

"And it has no title."

Hermione sat down back in chair, repeating Malfoy's hints softly to herself, turning them over in her head.

"Can I see it?" she asked.

With a small nod, he handed it to her. The front and the back were both covered in swirling floral patterns of silver and gold. It was thinner than she expected, and although the binding was worn, the sides of the pages looked crisp.

After a few more minutes of silent contemplation, she shook her head in defeat.

"I don't know," Hermione told him. His smirk widened and he took the book from her hands.

"Disappointing, Granger. I think you've been out of school too long."

With a glare, she stood and tried to leave, but Malfoy grabbed her wrist.

"What?" she asked, her voice thick with annoyance.

"I believe I get to ask you a question."

"Fine," Hermione said, yanking her arm free of his hold.

"Are you with the Weasel?" he asked, carefully avoiding her gaze.

"Ron?"

He nodded, then met her eyes.

"No," Hermione answered slowly, watching Malfoy with careful scrutiny. "Why?"

"I don't believe you've earned the right to ask questions," he answered. He stood slowly, moving closer to tower over her. With a small raise of his eyebrows, Malfoy slid around her, leaving Hermione baffled and alone in the musky library.

* * *

Hermione, Ron and Harry landed in a pile of limbs in the front hall with a loud crack of Apparation. Hermione darted up and looked around; it was the middle of the afternoon and no one was around. Ron's low groan caught her attention and she couldn't stop the shriek that tore from her throat. Blood seeped through his shirt at an alarming rate. Harry was already ripping the fabric from his body to uncover dangerously pale skin and long wounds across his arms and chest.

"Ron," Hermione choked and fell on her knees next to him. His response gurgled in his throat, but he grasped her hand tightly. His bright blue eyes were wide with fear and pain.

"Harry, get my bag," she breathed. "Find the Essence of Dittany."

He turned her charmed bag upside down as books, bits of parchment and the locket tumbled onto the floor. Harry quickly grabbed it and shoved it deep in his pocket.

"I- I can't-" he began, the panic in his voice rising as he searched for the small potion bottle.

"Accio Dittany!" she cried, and a tiny crystal bottle flew into her hand. Hermione's hands shook violently as she squeezed the dropper onto his bleeding skin. Ron hissed and writhed on the ground as the potion sizzled upon contact.

"What the fuck?" a gruff voice interrupted her train of panicked thoughts.

She whipped around to see Draco standing at the foot of the stairs. He was rubbing his tousled hair but his eyes were narrowed sharply at the scene before him. When his eyes reached Ron, he turned and hollered up the staircase for Madame Pomfrey.

Hermione looked back at Ron as hot tears trailed down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," she choked. "Ron, look at me." She held his head still in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

Strong hands wrapped around her upper arms, hauling her away. Hermione clawed and kicked, trying to fight her way back to Ron.

"Stop," a low masculine voice commanded in her ear. "Let them do it."

She had barely noticed the group of adults surrounding Ron. Molly was brushing his hair away from his face, while Remus and Poppy cast diagnostic spells over him. With a quiet levitation spell, Remus led Ron up the stairs as Harry, Molly and Poppy followed.

A harsh sob came tumbling from her mouth as she turned and buried her face in the warm crook of her captor's neck. After a brief moment of hesitation, the hands that gripped her loosened and wrapped around her back in a comforting embrace.

Hermione had lost track of time as she bathed the pale skin in salty tears. When she finally looked up, she let out a strangled noise of surprise. Malfoy was watching her intently, his eyes changing from concern to hardened annoyance in a split second. Hermione stammered for a moment before clearing her throat.

"Thank you," she murmured. The annoyance melted softly as he nodded in response. His eyes lowered briefly before gesturing to her chest. In their disastrous Apparation, Hermione's shirt had ripped open to her navel, exposing her bra-covered breasts. Malfoy's gaze flitted down again, pupils dilated, as she hurriedly covered herself. When she looked back up at him, her mouth went dry. His eyes were stormy gray as they bore into her own. Her cheeks flushed under his scrutiny and she took a step backwards.

"I need some air," she mumbled, walking toward the back door. The cooling air bathed her skin as Hermione dropped to sit onto the steps. She watched an ant make its way across the ground as she tried to ignore the soft click of the door closing. Malfoy sat next to her with a sigh.

"They're going to start asking questions," he said.

Hermione nodded silently, her throat burning from her tears.

"You aren't wearing your own clothes, and it's not like you to Splinch anyone," he continued, staring ahead at the setting sun. The gentle clinking of ice brought her gaze to him. Malfoy was pushing a small glass of amber liquid toward her. After studying it for a few moments, she took a small sip as more tears gathered in her eyes.

"Someone grabbed my ankle," she said, swirling the alcohol in her glass. "I had to stop off along the way to get rid of them. I- I didn't have time…" Hermione trailed off, trying to swallow her fresh tears in another sip. "I was brash."

Malfoy grunted in response, taking a long drink as Hermione watched him from the corner of her eye. He licked his lips quickly, leaving them shining with moisture. Hermione tried to look away, but she was fascinated by the soft pinkness of his lips.

 _It's so unfair,_  she thought to herself with a small, inward chuckle.  _Women would kill for lips like that._ With a final drink, her glass was empty and her eyes were dry. Hermione stood on shaky legs, brushing the wrinkles from her skirt. With a small nod towards Malfoy, she headed for the shower. Her hands were stained with Ron's blood and the smell of Dittany, and the steam of a hot shower would soothe her worried mind. Ginny wasn't in their room when Hermione entered, so she quickly stripped off her clothes to wrap herself in a towel. Hermione popped her head out of the doorway, and upon seeing the empty hall, she scurried towards the bathroom.

She turned the shower on its hottest setting and sighed as steam filled the small room. Hermione stepped under the stream, allowing the water to run down her body. Rusty water pooled around her feet as blood and dirt washed off of her skin. When her hair and body were clean, Hermione stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself tightly in her towel once again. Hermione opened the door to see Malfoy standing in front of her, fist raised to knock.

"Weasley won't shut up about you," he said, his voice raspy from the alcohol. "Figured I'd be the only one with enough common sense to come find you, rather than shove sleeping potions down his throat."

"He's okay?" Hermione asked, her eyes alight with hope. Malfoy shrugged, taking a lingering gaze at her towel-clad frame. She pulled the towel up higher self-consciously, but it just brought his eyes to her bare thighs.

"Stop," she hissed as her skin flushed pink yet again.

"Stop what?" Malfoy asked with a drawl. His mouth twitched into a smirk, but her glowering look pulled it back into a frown.

"Looking at me!"

He shrugged again, creating an aura of false nonchalance.

"I've been here for nearly a month," he remarked, walking back towards his bedroom. "I was bound to notice at some point in time."

"Notice what?" Hermione asked in an exaggerated whisper, trying not to bring attention to the two of them. Instead of responding, Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her, closing the door in front of his face.

"Prat," she sighed under her breath, ignoring the way her skin had erupted in gooseflesh under his gaze.

"Hermione!" Harry called, his head popping out from Ron and his room. "Get dressed. Ron wants you."

"Oh!" she cried, remembering the reason for Malfoy's presence. She hurried into her room to change as Ron's face and injured body swarmed in her memory. She was too lost in thought to notice the small, ornate book lying on her bed.


End file.
